


Five Times Chat Caught Marinette Chewing on Inedible Things (and One Time He Caught Ladybug)

by GalahadWilder



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Crack, F/M, Fluff, Identity Reveal, Marichat, Reverse Cat Behaviors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:35:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26779702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadWilder/pseuds/GalahadWilder
Summary: Marinette's emotions are intense. Whenever they're overwhelming—too strong to carry—she grabs the first thing that comes to hand and shoves it between her teeth, venting her emotions through chewing.This makes Chat Noir very, very nervous.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 62
Kudos: 844
Collections: Miraculous Writer's Guild September Event 2020





	Five Times Chat Caught Marinette Chewing on Inedible Things (and One Time He Caught Ladybug)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "What have you got in your mouth?" with Marichat.
> 
> You'd expect Marinette to be saying that to Chat, but, well, you can lead me to water but you sure as heck can't make me drink.

It starts, as so many of these things do, with Chat Noir paying a late-night visit to Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Chat has never been the most observant person, despite his best efforts. He tries, sure, but there are some things that, quite simply, escape him. One thing he  _ has _ noticed lately is that Marinette has been getting more and more stressed, under more and more pressure, in a way that reminds him uncomfortably of Ladybug. There’s only so much he can do for Ladybug, though—he can only really be there for her while she’s suited up. Which is, he supposes, why helping Marinette relax is so paramount for him. If he can help at least  _ one _ of the incredible ladies in his life...

Which is why Chat Noir is slinking into Marinette’s skylight. 

“Gooooooood evening, Princess!” he crows, flopping over on the bed with a grin, one arm dangling straight down and the other waving a  _ Steins;Gate _ DVD. “I come bearing incomprehensible anime!” 

One thing he’s learned about both her and Ladybug—the easiest way to help them with their anxiety is to give them a puzzle.  _ Steins;Gate _ is perfect for brain explosions, so it’s ideal for heading off her restless trains of thought.

“Jus’ a mimmed,” Marinette mumbles through closed lips. She’s bustling around her dress form, pinning swathes of deep violet fabric into a shape that looks like ocean waves. She looks pale—probably hasn’t stopped to eat in a while.

Chat rolls over onto his back. “But Princess, I’m booooooored,” he whines, kicking his boots up toward the ceiling. He twists his neck as far as he can, looking back down toward her. “Watcha makin’?”

“Ashymmedrig dolmam wid fwogsh,” she says, skipping over half the words in the sentence. That’s a sure sign that she’s hyperfocusing, which is probably a good thing—if she was sparing the brainpower to keep things at the level of understanding she expects from him, she’d just say “dress.” Or maybe “dress with one sleeve.”

Chat rolls back onto his stomach, kicking his legs up near his butt. “One Dolman sleeve, huh?” he says. He’s impressed at the audacity of the design, “Those are supposed to be tough…”

He trails off as he suddenly realizes  _ why _ she’s mumbling, catching a glint of silver between her lips.

“Marinette,” he says, his voice hard, “what have you got in your mouth?”

She glances up at Chat with confusion. “Pinsh?” she says.

Chat rolls onto his chest and spins so his feet are pointing to the ground, launches himself down the ladder in a slide, and carefully plucks the pins from her lips. “Nope.”

Marinette freezes, shooting him a sidelong glare. “The heck?”

Chat holds up the pins between his fingers. “Pincushions exist for a reason,” he snaps. “Do you  _ know _ what happens if you swallow these?”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “It’s  _ fine _ , Chat,” she says. “I’m careful.”

Chat raises an eyebrow. “Marinette,” he says, “Do you know how out of it you were?”

Marinette just glares at him.

Chat sighs. “I just gave you a clue to my identity,” he says, “and you were so focused that you  _ entirely missed that I’d done it. _ ”

Marinette blinks, jerking back. “You did what,” she says.

“My point exactly,” he says, turning and gently stabbing the pins into her cat-shaped pincushion.

He halts, one pin poised over its heart, struck by the familiarity of the motion. “Huh. Do you ever pretend this thing is me when you’re stabbing it?”

Marinette folds her arms. “More than you can imagine.”

* * *

“She’s a designer,” Adrien says, standing up from his computer chair and stalking towards his window. He throws his hands up in exasperation as he glares toward her apartment across the park. “She should  _ know _ better!”

“What’s so wrong with it?” Plagg says from the nest of socks he’s built on the coffee table in front of Adrien’s TV. He props his chin up on his paws. “She’s just holding them in her mouth. It’s convenient.”

Adrien flops back onto his couch. “It’s also  _ really dangerous, _ ” he says. “Do you know how easy those things are to swallow?”

Plagg shrugs. “Not really?”

“Very easy,” Adrien says, staring out the window toward Marinette’s apartment. “And if a pin makes it into your throat…”

“She swallows it,” Plagg says, nestling back into the socks. “It’ll just pass back out again.”

Adrien shudders, turning toward the rock wall. “After shredding her insides from top to bottom.”

Plagg is silent for a moment, his ears flicking uncomfortably. “Oh.”

Adrien turns in his seat, lying down and staring up at the blank white ceiling. “She should know better than to put things like that in her mouth.”

Plagg shrugs. “To be fair,” he says, “Pigtails puts weirder stuff in her mouth all the time.”

Adrien sits up, turning to Plagg with narrow eyes. “What?” he says.

Plagg’s head perks up, his mouth splitting into a tiny grin. “Watch her next time she gets mad,” Plagg says. “Promise you, she’ll shove whatever she’s holding between her teeth.”

* * *

“I’m never going to understand this,” Marinette groans, collapsing backward and slapping her pencil down on her math homework. They’ve barely been at this for ten minutes and her head is already splitting. “How does this even make  _ sense _ to you?”

Chat hums noncommittally from the chair next to her, shooting her a sideways glance. “Numbers just make sense in my head,” he says, waving his claws near his temple. “It’s like—you know how when you throw something, you can always tell where it’s going to land?”

Marinette giggles. He has no idea how right he is—plotting the path of her yo-yo isn’t anything she thinks about, it’s instinctive, even with extremely complex weavings. “Yeah,” she says. “I sort of know the feeling.”

Chat nods. “That’s how numbers work for me generally,” he says. He waves his hands in front of his face. “They just sort of… arrange themselves in my head?”

Marinette grimaces. “How convenient for you,” she growls. Just one more power he gets that she doesn’t. She leans forward, pressing her forehead to her computer screen and staring a hole into her paper. “So what if I just… try to access that part of my brain?”

Chat swallows. “I’m not sure that’s how that—”

Marinette doesn’t hear the rest of his sentence, because she’s already focusing on the paper.  _ Come on, brain, _ Marinette thinks.  _ You can plot ridiculous trajectories for my yo-yo, you can solve one stupid quadratic equation! _

Her brain proceeds to do the equivalent of  _ you’re on your own, sucker _ , and suddenly, all she can see is red.

“AAAARGH!” she shrieks. She shoots to her feet, narrowly missing bashing her head into the ladder-stairs that lead to her bed, then slams her hand down onto her desk, crushing her homework in her fist. It’s barely a second before she’s tearing into the offending paper with her teeth.

“Whoa! Marinette!” Chat yelps, swiping at the paper. “Get that out of your mouth!”

Shocked, Marinette rears back, and this time the back of her head  _ does _ bash against the underside of the stairs. “Ow!” she yelps, her homework dropping in a wet clump to the hard wood of her floor.

“Princess!” Chat jumps to his feet. He carefully takes her head in his arms, stroking her throbbing scalp. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “You okay?”

Marinette nods, blinking tears out of her eyes. “Th-think so.”

Chat pulls her head down against his chest, and she feels her scalp vibrate as he starts to purr.

“Mmmmm,” she murmurs, sinking into his chest.

Distracted as she is by his purring, it takes a moment for Marinette to realize that Chat is looking at her homework. “Do you do that every time you’re frustrated with math?” he says.

Marinette’s body is immediately flooded with shame. “I… yes,” she says, drawing back into herself. Making herself small. “I get angry, and then I just… go feral, I guess.”

Chat’s mouth twists into a sort of grimace—she’s not sure whether it’s judgmental or sympathetic—and he squeezes her a little closer. “It’s okay,” he murmurs into her hair.

His breath feels hot on her scalp, and she swallows.

Chat looks down at her eyes, sees the fear in them, and smiles. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll still be with you the whole way.”

That’s… not what she’s worried about, but she can’t help the way her heart begins to thud at how sweet of him it is.

* * *

“Okay,” Adrien sighs, leaning his head against the back wall, one leg stretched out across his bed. He presses his palms to his eyes. “You were right.”

Plagg cackles from the nightstand. “I’m always right.”

“So…” Adrien purses his lip and drops his arms with a  _ skwoosh  _ of comforter. “She does that… every time?” he says. He gestures with his hands toward his mouth, rolling them.. “Just… jams whatever she’s holding into her mouth?”

“Pretty much,” Plagg says. “Whenever she’s mad or frustrated…” He demonstrates by popping a chunk of cheese between his teeth. “...indo her teesh ih’goesh.”

“Wow,” Adrien says. “I mean… I knew she stims sometimes…” He gesticulates in a manner that is almost, but not quite, like the way Marinette flails sometimes. “I’ve seen her arm flaps.” He shakes his head. “This is a bit bigger than that.”

“Shtim?” Plagg says, tilting his head.

“Oh, like, um, you know how I...” Adrien scratches the back of his neck. “I do, um,  _ this _ , when I’m uncomfortable?” He glances away, then holds up his hand. “It’s a… like, a physical way of venting intense emotions.”

“Oh, huh,” Plagg says. “Like how she goes berserk with her arms whenever you sneak up on her?”

Adrien snorts. “Don’t be mean,” he says, reaching over to his nightstand and flicking Plagg’s ear.

Plagg bares his teeth, snatching his cheese away from Adrien’s hand. “Don’t be dumb then!” he says.

Adrien rolls his eyes, flopping back onto the bed. “Still, this is… disturbing,” he says, thinking about all of the times when Lila was saying something egregious that led to Marinette angrily gnawing her phone. “This  _ can’t _ be healthy, can it?”

Plagg inhales another chunk of cheese. “Eh,” he says. “It’s not so bad.”

“You  _ would _ say that,” Adrien says, tilting his head with a raised eyebrow. “Your first instinct with everything is to chew on it.”

“Guilty as charged,” Plagg says, polishing off the cheese with a smack of his lips. He immediately floats upward and zips toward the mini-fridge under Adrien’s desk. “Cheese?”

“Nah,” Adrien says, lying back and staring up at the ceiling. “You already had all of your cheese for today.”

“You’re mean and I hate you.”

Adrien closes his eyes and smiles. “Too late for that,” he says. “You already said I was your favorite Chat Noir.”

He lies still for a minute, thinking, before his eyes blink back open. “Hey,” he says. “How’d you know she does that?” He wiggles his fingers. “You know, with her arms.”

“Oh,” Plagg says, “I pay attention to all of your friends.”

Adrien sits up, looking at plagg with narrow eyes. “You’ve forgotten Nino’s name four times.”

Plagg looks up from where he is attempting to push the fridge door open with his tiny body (in spite of the fact that he could easily phase through the door). “What,” he says, “can’t take a joke?”

* * *

“Alya,  _ stop! _ ” Marinette cries, digging her heels into the ground. Her desperate fingers can’t find purchase on Alya’s wrist, her nails catching on her friend’s flannel sleeve.

Alya keeps powering forward, barely phased by Marinette’s minuscule weight dragging her backward. “Marinette, you gotta  _ let go _ ,” Alya groans. “I don’t want to drag you into this!”

“You promised!” Marinette says. “You promised you’d stop running toward Akuma!” 

It’s 100% not true—no matter how many times she’s tried to extract that promise from Alya, she’s never gotten it—but after watching Alya get  _ diced to pieces _ not two days ago, she can’t think about Alya getting near one of her fights without her heart threatening to explode.

Alya rolls her eyes, shaking her sleeve loose. “I never said that and you know it,” she says. “You’re not going to guilt me out of this!”

Marinette bites into her lip, trying to hold back tears. “ _ W-watch me _ ,” she stutters, tightening her fingers around opposite elbows, her eyes beginning to mist over. “Alya—Alya, please, it’s—it’s—it’s not safe.” She’s trying to keep from shaking, trying to keep from betraying just how  _ scared _ she is—after all, everyone else in Paris treats Akuma attacks a bit like a joke.  _ She’s _ the one who doesn’t know if things will go right. “I can’t—I can’t watch you—”

Alya steps forward, putting her hands on Marinette’s shoulders. “Hey,” she says softly. “It’ll be fine.”

“You can’t—you can’t… know that,” Marinette whispers.

Alya gives a roguish half-smile. “I trust Ladybug,” she says. “If anything happens to me, she’ll fix it.”

Marinette’s heart jumps into her throat.  _ But what if I can’t? _ she can’t say.

Alya’s smile grows to full. “I’ll be fine,” she says, patting Marinette’s shoulders once before turning on her heel and bolting off toward the Akuma.

Marinette stares after Alya, utterly silent. She can feel steam rising inside her skull, pushing outward, burning, and she just—she wants—she needs to—

“Alya—you—agh!” she screams, yanking her phone out of her purse and biting down.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” she hears from above her, and suddenly a black shape drops into her line of sight, clawed fingers in a vise-grip on her phone. “Get that out of your mouth!”

Marinette yelps, her teeth clenching down  _ harder _ on her phone, cutting into the rubber of her case and  _ splintering _ the screen like a styrofoam cup. Her Ladybug instincts fire off all at once, her mind screaming  _ Akuma _ as her open palm takes the intruder across the cheek.

“Ow!” the person—presumably Akuma—shrieks, releasing the phone and staggering backward, launching Marinette—and her phone—in the other direction. “Princess!”

The  _ Princess _ barely registers in her mind while she’s still falling, and her mouth goes slack in surprise, releasing the phone just enough to let it fall back into her throat. She gags, her esophagus clenching as she pivots on her toes, grabbing her stomach and  _ hork _ ing her phone onto the street with a clatter and a tinkle of glass shards.

“No, no, no no no!” Chat Noir exclaims, rushing to Marinette and pressing a palm flat against her stomach. “Please be okay, please be okay—”

“ _ High’mokay!”  _ Marinette rasps, trying not to vomit.

“I’ve got you—”

Marinette slaps his hand away. “ _ Akuma! _ ” she rasps. “ _ Gethekuma!” _

Chat grips her tightly, eyes wide. “I can’t just  _ leave _ you!”

She coughs again, shoving his chest. “ _ Go!” _

He stares at her, horrified.

“ _ Befine!”  _ She hacks another cough, stumbling away from him. “ _ Help—Ladybug!” _

“She can hold on for a few—”

“ _ GO! _ ” she roars, before devolving into a coughing fit.

Chat stares at her, unsure, before jamming his baton into the ground and launching away.

“ _ Tigghi,”  _ Marinette rasps. “ _ Spohtson.” _

Pink sparks explode up her body, and immediately the pressure vanishes from her chest. “Oh, thank God,” Ladybug gasps, stumbling toward the wall. She glances toward where Chat vanished, her mouth twisting downward.

Oh, he’d better  _ hope _ the Cure fixes her phone, or she is going to rip him open from tail to ears.

* * *

“Okay,” Adrien says, running his fingers through his hair. “That was bad. She nearly choked to death.”

“To be fair,” Plagg says, “it was your fault she swallowed her phone.”

Adrien freezes. That’s not—she was going to— “I, uh... “ He collapses into his chair. “Ugh, yeah. It was.”

“At least the Akuma fight went well.” Plagg flits over to the computer screen, sitting down on top of the webcam. “Why don’t you rewatch the fight, take a look at Ladybug? Always makes you feel better.”

Adrien purses his lips. He’s not sure whether Plagg is mocking him or serious—he’s technically right, that usually  _ does _ make him feel better, but he can’t get distracted right now. “I don’t…” He sighs. “Even if it wasn’t me,  _ something _ could still have gone wrong, and Marinette would’ve ended up in the hospital.” He turns in his chair, looking out the window toward the bakery. “I need to talk to her. The things she’s chewing on…”

Plagg’s eyes flutter closed in resignation. “You’re not gonna let me have any cheese first, are you.”

* * *

When Chat drops in on Marinette, he always makes sure to knock first. He knows how particular she can be about her privacy, and he knows that some of the stuff she does she prefers for him not to know about. He’s used to that from everybody, really, but from her it’s different—from her, her secrets aren’t about  _ him _ , they’re about  _ her _ .

When he arrives, he takes a moment to compose himself, to think about what he’s going to say. He doesn’t like arguing,  _ especially _ with Marinette, but this is for her own safety.

He kneels down next to the skylight and knocks.

Immediately, he hears a muffled shriek and a crash, and in a moment, he’s through the skylight and down the ladder.

“Marinette?” he says, swinging down around the railing of the ladder-stairs. “Are you all right?”

“Mhm!” she says from the floor next to her desk. She’s sprawled out, her chair spinning, and the look on her face is shocked, taken aback—

Her mouth is full.

“Marinette,” he says, slowly and carefully as he kneels down next to her, “what do you have in your mouth?”

She stares at him with wide eyes and equally wide cheeks—though her eyes quickly narrow into a silent glare.

Chat sighs. He knows exactly what that means, and he deserves it. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m sorry about your phone, I didn’t mean to surprise you—is it okay?”

“Mhm,” Marinette nods.

He feels a cross between relief and bile in his esophagus, but he shoves it down. “Princess,” he says flatly, his head tilting. “Whatever’s in your mouth, take it out.”

She shakes her head.

Chat purses his lips. “If you don’t take it out,” he says, holding up a claw, “I’m going to have to pry it out.”

Marinette’s eyelids fly open, and she scrambles backward, retreating further under the desk, shaking her head again.

He reaches out, eyebrow raised, and she twists her head petulantly away.

Chat sits. “You have to stop eating weird things,” he says. “Seriously, you’re starting to scare me.”

Marinette’s eyes cast toward him without turning her head. There’s concern in them, but she still doesn’t say anything.

“The pins could’ve killed you,” he says, pointing up through the desk at where he remembers her pincushion being. “I wasn’t the only one who could’ve surprised you about the phone, and we were lucky that it was during an attack so that it could be fixed.” He shakes his head. “And the homework—what happens if you eat a document that can’t be replaced?”

Marinette blinks, then purses her lips as best she can around the flat object in her mouth. Then she reluctantly opens her mouth and reaches in, extracting… a polaroid photograph.

Chat leans in.

Marinette yanks the photograph away. “Hey!”

Chat leans back, holding up his palms. “Sorry.” He smiles apologetically, clambering out from under the desk and extending a hand.

She takes it, and he lifts her out with a smile. 

“May I see?”

Marinette practically swallows her tongue as she drops back into her chair, her pupils spinning down to pinpricks, and her shoulders tighten. “Uh—I don’t—you should—I don’t—”

Chat places a hand, gently, on top of hers, and she visibly calms at his touch.

She sighs. “I—You’ll find out eventually,” she says, her shoulders slumping again. “Everyone else knows.” 

She slides the picture toward him.

It’s—it’s a picture of  _ him. _ Adrien-him, not Chat Noir-him. Which isn’t that strange, not for her—there are pictures of him all over her walls, always have been. But her reaction to it is a little weird.

“You were hiding this?” Chat says.

Marinette pouts, nodding. “Yeah. It’s—” She crosses her arms, staring at her feet. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” Chat says, holding up the picture. It’s not a particularly flattering one; it’s a candid, the one where the angle makes it look like he doesn’t have any teeth. “I mean, it’s just a picture of a friend, right?”

Marinette stares at him, then snorts. “You’re as bad as he is.” She taps the photograph with a dreamy smile. “I’m sort of… in love with him.”

Chat’s brain immediately implodes.

* * *

“No,” Adrien says, repeatedly bonking his head against the air conditioning duct on the rooftop across the street from Marinette’s parent’s bakery. “No way.”

“She literally  _ told _ you, kid,” Plagg says with a smirk, sitting cross-legged on top of the very same duct. “What part of ‘I’m in love with him’ leaves any sort of wiggle room?”

“The part where she’s been  _ denying it  _ to my  _ face _ for a  _ year! _ ” Adrien says, throwing his arms in the air. He turns and drops with a metal  _ clang _ as his back crashes against the duct. “Every time I asked, she said no—”

Plagg flits down in front of his face. “Maybe she was scared,” he says.

“Scared? Marinette?” Adrien laughs. “Marinette isn’t afraid of  _ anything _ .” He’s seen her stand up to Chloé, Akuma,  _ Hawkmoth himself _ with barely a shiver.

Plagg tilts his head with a cheeky grin. “She’s scared of  _ you, _ ” he says.

“Why?” Adrien says. “I’m not  _ that _ intimidating.”

“You are when she’s in love with you,” Plagg says. “That’s why she hasn’t been telling you anything.”

* * *

The next morning at school is its own special kind of hell.

HIs feelings for Marinette have always been just on the wrong side of platonic—only just—so he could always force them down, tell himself he didn’t feel that way, that it was just friendly. Besides, no matter how close he was to her, it wasn’t like she felt that way about him.

Except now he knows that she does, and his entire world has been toppled like a poorly-constructed house of cards that Plagg has flown through with reckless abandon. Every sound she makes—every breath, every laugh, every word—has his ears perking up, growing hot and red to match the pink of her cheeks, her smile, her… everything.

He can’t stop turning in his seat to look at her, but—but he knows he’s not supposed to know. He’s not supposed to know.

_ What about Ladybug? _ Plagg had asked.

Ladybug is Ladybug. She’ll never be anything less to him than the most important person in his world. She’ll never be anything less to him than his  _ entire _ world. But… but a world without Marinette, without Marinette’s smile, her laugh, her brightness, her sometimes incomprehensible word salad, doesn’t bear thinking about.

He’s technically supposed to have patrol tonight. He  _ never _ skips patrol. But tonight he thinks he might have to.

* * *

Marinette stares at her homework, trying to think through her literature, but the fog in her brain just won’t lift. It’s hard for any thoughts to form—any thoughts except one.

“I did that  _ once _ ,” she says, jabbing her pencil in the air toward Tikki. “I ate my phone  _ once _ .”

“Um,” Tikki says.

Marinette glances at Tikki. “ _ Betrayal _ ,” she hisses with a small grin.

Tikki shrugs. “You’re at five since we met, by my count. Plus the grimoire...” She ticks them off on her paws as she speaks. “...several homeworks, some of your smaller stuffed animals, the limbs of your cat pillow, and at least one necklace from Alya.”

Marinette sighs. “Come on,” she says. “It can’t be  _ that _ bad, can it?”

Tikki tilts her head toward Marinette’s pencil, which is covered in teeth marks.

Marinette holds it up, incredulous. “I just started using this yesterday...” she says. She drops it and sighs, sitting back in her chair. “Is Chat right?” she says. “I mean… I stim, sometimes, and that I guess that means I chew on things, but—”

There’s a knock on the skylight.

A very complicated process ignites in Marinette’s brain, sparked by panic and the conversation she’s halfway through. She knows she can’t let Chat see Tikki, because she can’t let him know her identity. But in the moment when Tikki is looking up at the skylight, Marinette forgets how fast her Kwami is, forgets she can phase, forgets everything except for  _ OH NO SHE MUST HIDE THE TIKKI. _

She’s not sure why this is her first instinct, even afterward—maybe it was because of the subject matter, about what she and Tikki are talking about, but in that second after the knock—before Tikki can move—she’s already swept her Kwami into her hand and stuffed her into her mouth.

_ Bad decision, _ the Ladybug part of brain supplies, but the skylight is opening and she doesn’t have time to undo it. Chat’s face peers down from above, the starry backlighting giving him an ethereal, angelic glow. “Marinette?” he says. “I, uh, I’m sorry to intrude…”

If he comes into the room and sees she’s got something in her mouth again, he’s going to try and make her open it and then he’ll see Tikki and then her identity will be revealed and Hawkmoth will win and Chat will hate her and Marinette’s brain decides to throw good money after bad. She leaps from her desk chair, diving under her chaise lounge with a whimper.

Steel-toed boots hit the hardwood floor barely a second later, followed by the familiar  _ whizz  _ of an unsheathing baton. “Are you safe?” Chat gasps, his feet squeaking on the wood as he spins, taking in the room. “Where’s the Akuma?”

Marinette mentally slaps her forehead. Of  _ course _ he thinks there’s an Akuma. If she’d seen  _ Rose _ dive under a couch for no reason…

He spins to look at her, eyes wild, then his gaze locks onto hers and  _ narrows. _

“Are you seriously just trying to hide that you ate something?” he sighs.

Marinette shakes her head, but the bulge in her cheeks betrays her.

Chat crouches. “Marinette,” he says. “Seriously. This is… getting kinda ridiculous?”

_ You’re telling me. _ She’s hiding from a leather catboy under a chaise lounge with a fairy goddess in her mouth. There is no part of this that isn’t ridiculous.

He sighs, then, a  _ crack. _

Marinette yelps, jumping, slamming her head against the top of the chaise. Her mouth pops open in surprise, dropping Tikki onto the ground.

Chat blinks, his hand still clenched around the baton that he’d slammed into the ground to surprise her. “Is that,” he says, “a Kwami?”

Marinette’s entire stomach tries to evacuate her mouth, rear first. Every single thing she’s done for the past year, every sacrifice she’s made, and they’re blown because of one reckless, stupid move.

“...No?” Marinette says, her blood crashing painfully through her ears. Her brain is screaming for her to  _ do something _ , to throw him off, to deny it, but she’s drawing—not just a blank, it feels like there’s a pure white wasteland where her thoughts should be. There’s nothing she can say to head this off, nothing she can do, no trick she can pull.

He’s looking right at Tikki. 

“You had a Kwami,” Chat says, crouching, “in your mouth.”

“Meow?” Tikki says, blinking owlishly up at him.

A desperate, terrified giggle bubbles up from Marinette’s chest. Tikki’s trying to pretend to be a cat. Again. That’s never worked once.

Chat smiles and lifts Tikki in his leather-clad palm and pokes at her tummy with one claw, eliciting a bright giggle from the Kwami.

“Hi, Tikki,” he says.

* * *

“So,” Chat says. “You’re My Lady.”

Ladybug fights down the surge of warmth that roils through her belly at his tone—there’s nothing but admiration and adoration in his voice, even though her identity is blown, even though she’s blown everything.

“You don’t seem surprised,” she says, her legs kicking out over empty space just past the girders of the Eiffel tower. They’d needed privacy, and this is one of her comfort places. Partly because of him. “Actually, you seem… happy?”

He turns to her, his eyes sparkling. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he says. His mouth opens into a tiny smile. “I mean, I said I’d love Ladybug whoever was under the mask, but… I should’ve expected it to be someone I already loved.”

Ladybug has barely more than a second to notice the heat in her face before she nearly falls off her girder.

“I’m okay!” she yelps, scrabbling at the metal, her super-strong fingers gouging furrows in the metal. “I’m okay!”

She looks down, realizes that Chat’s hand is outstretched, bare inches away from touching her covered skin, reaching out to catch her if she falls. Like he always does.

Her whole body feels red-hot, and she can’t even look at his face. All of her muscles are rigid, joints locked, and she can feel her heart squeezing the way it did that day in the rain. When Adrien gave her his umbrella.

Oh no. She can’t—she can _ not _ be falling in love with Chat Noir.

“Why did you think it would be a good idea to hide her in your mouth?”

Ladybug’s breath catches in her chest. “I  _ didn’t! _ ” she protests. “You—you knocked, I panicked!” She sighs, her head twisting away from him as her voice goes quiet. “I can’t  _ always _ be the rational one.”

Chat pokes her shoulder. “No,” he says, and she can  _ hear _ him grinning. “Sometimes you—” His voice breaks, and he keels forward, giggling. “ _ Sometimes you—you have to—to shove an—” _ He rolls to the side, slapping desperately at the roof. _ “—AN ENTIRE GRIMOIRE IN YOUR MOUTH _ .”

Ladybug shoves a fist into his abs, more of a strong nudge than a punch. “Hey!” she yelps.

He doesn’t stop laughing.

She slaps ineffectively at his shoulder. “Stop laughing!”

“But—but Bugaboo—!” Chat gasps out, cackling.

“If you don’t stop laughing,  _ you’re _ gonna be eating something stupid!” Ladybug says, holding up a fist.

Chat looks at her, eyes wide and lips pressed together, before bursting out into cackles again. “I’m—I’m sorry!” he snorts, pressing his palm over his mouth. “It’s like—being threated by—by—by a  _ cupcake _ !”

Ladybug glares at him, trying to scrunch up her face, but something about this whole scenario is so ridiculous that she can’t quite hold down a giggle.

“Death by—” She snorts, pushing his cheek with her palm. “Death by  _ frosting _ , dick!”

“Nooooo strawberry frosting!” Chat cries, dramatically flopping onto his back. “I leave everything to Marinette!”

Both of them freeze.

“Me,” Ladybug says. “You’re—you’d leave everything to me.”

Chat stares at her from flat on the Eiffel girder, eyes wide. “I—well, I, um, I...” He swallows. “I, uh. Yeah.”

Ladybug blinks. Every hair on her body is standing up at once, the wind biting straight into her bones. “Not even… Ladybug-me,” she says.

Chat sits up, bracing himself against one of the struts, and scratches the back of his neck. “I… yeah.” He glances away. “I mean, some of it would go to Nino, but…”

Yeah, that makes—wait. Ladybug’s eyes narrow. “Nino?” she says. “You know Nino.”

Chat swallows. “Uh,” he says. “Yeah, I, um.” He grimaces. “Ladybug, Marinette, and Nino are three of the most important people in my life.” His eyes meet hers. “Well, two I guess.”

She stares at him. “I know how  _ I _ know Nino,” she says. “How do  _ you _ know Nino?”

Chat swallows. “Uh,” he says. “Same way you do?”

Ladybug stares at him, the wheels whirring in her brain. Same way—she  _ grew up  _ with Nino. She’s been going to school with him since—oh. Oh no.

School. He knows Nino from school.

And everyone in her class has been Akumatized, except two. Her, and—and—

Her lungs freeze. Her limbs lock. Her neck—she can’t get breath past her neck, can’t swallow, can’t—

The rain. The umbrella. The—the—no wonder he—

He’d said he loved her. Not Ladybug-her. Marinette-her.

“ _ Adrien? _ ” Ladybug shrieks.

Chat leaps forward, pressing his palms over her mouth. “Keep it down!” he hisses. “I don’t think they heard you in the twelfth Arrondissement!”

Ladybug yanks her face away from his hands, narrowly avoiding bashing her skull on the strut. “Oh Kwami,” she gasps, pressing her palms to her forehead. “Oh Kwami, oh Kwami, oh Kwami…” She can feel her breath coming short, her fingers beginning to shake. “And I—I told you—”

He reaches for her wrist—to comfort her, she assumes—but it’s just—it’s—it’s too much—

She snatches her yo-yo, stuffs it between her teeth, and  _ screams _ .

The muffled, extended shriek splits the night open like a burning crack in the sky. The plastic is cold and bitter against her tongue, pressing outward on her whole mouth, uncomfortable, but she just—she has to—she has to—

Chat’s fingers wrap around her wrists. “Okay, Mari, let’s—let’s not eat inedible things, okay?”

She gasps in a breath and returns to shrieking. Adrien. Adrien is  _ touching _ her. Adrien is touching her  _ with affection. _ Adrien is wearing a  _ skintight leather suit _ and touching her with affection. She’s going to fall off the Eiffel Tower and die and it would be better than this.

His claws grip the yo-yo, and he tugs it gently out of her mouth, scraping the plastic on her teeth. “Come on,” he says. “You gotta let go.”

She whimpers.

The yo-yo pops out of her mouth, and Chat quietly tucks it under his thigh, wrapping his palms behind her head and pressing his forehead to hers. “Okay,” he says. “Breathe with me, Bug.”

She can’t—she can’t—she closes her eyes, matching her breathing to his, forcing the shaking down.

“Are you…” He looks up at her through soulful eyes. “Are you okay?”

Ladybug whimpers again, shaking her head. “ _ Iminlovewithyou _ .”

Chat blinks. “I’m—sorry,” he says. “Can you… repeat that, please?”

“Nnnn!” Ladybug grinds out, squeezing her eyes shut.

Chat purses his lips, gently lifting her head with his palms. “Bug,” he says. “My Lady. My—Marinette.” He swallows. “Did you say—did you say—?”

Ladybug throws her arms around his shoulders and tackles him to the girder, capturing his lips between her own. Desperate, hot, gasping, his breath in her mouth. He tastes like sweat and  _ Adrien _ brand cologne, which somewhere in the back of her head she notes is not surprising, but it’s hot and wet and so much more real than any of her fantasies of either Adrien  _ or _ Chat. It’s awkward, heavy, lips smashed together, teeth clicking awkwardly, but it’s him, it’s him, it’s  _ him. _

She pulls back, gasping, hairs whipping in the wind as they escape from her pigtails, pressing down on his shoulders. “ _ Mine _ ,” she gasps.

“You know,” he says, chuckling, “I feel like I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re a biter.”

She blinks, then swats at his shoulder. “Ass,” she giggles.


End file.
